Words on My Skin
by rockybluewigs
Summary: #ProjectBeautiful / It's uncommon for most of the girls to go inside the school bathroom, but when they do, they check each other out. Some girls actually use it, despite the harbor of germs inside the stalls. However, there's a select few that use the bathroom for self-destructive purposes. / Kim-centric


**A/N: For the Project Beautiful challenge. This may already been done, but there's a difference that you'll obviously find out at the end. Yup, no kick. Sorry. Love them, but it is getting heavily cliché when the star students save each other and make out at the end.**

Warning/Side Note: contains implicit scenes of cutting, depending on how you see it. If, by any chance, this triggers _anything_, put down the knife and write it out. I may not know any of you, but I do care about your mental health. You're all beautiful/handsome, no matter what anyone says. lessthanthree. (maybe this is why I wanted to become a counselor at one point.)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, unfortunately.

* * *

It's uncommon for most of the girls to go inside the school bathroom, but when they do, they check each other out. Some girls actually use it, despite the harbor of germs inside the stalls. However, there's a select few that use the bathroom for self-destructive purposes. Kim is one of those unfortunate persons.

She rocks back and forth, with her knees digging the cold-tiled floor. Her esophagus burns with her own stomach acid. The ceramic toilet bowl has a splatter of barely chewed food, and a tinge of blood. Kim barely looks at the mess she's made before she flushes the toilet. She wipes her mouth clean of bile, and exits the stall. She walks over to the mirror, which is large enough for Kim to see her torso (and high of her thigh). The broken girl staring back at her is fat. She's ugly. She's sickening. She's crying out for help. That's all she sees when she stares at the mirror. She's damn unpretty.

Kim lifts up her shirt, and squeezes the extra skin she perceives as fat. She's only been starving for a few days; she won't see progress just yet. However, she wants to see progress. No guy wants a fat girl, and she's definitely fat. Kim is fat. She's the biggest girl on the cheerleading squad and the gymnastics team, yet most of that weight is muscle. Kim can't see that. She steps on the scale, and she's gaining weight. she's gaining too much weight. That's not attractive.

Her eyes water with tears, as she digs into her pocket to find her medicating tool. She draws her sleeves back, and there's an angry red word staring back at her on her wrist. The word 'worthless' is read; she first done it a week ago and it reopened last night from the itchy process of healing. It was after her date with Brett, which ends in horrible chaos. She couldn't forgive herself, so she carves 'worthless' on her arm.

She pulls them down, and pulls her shirt up again. The razor shines in the dim light of the bathroom, with two dainty fingers holding it together. Her face is wet with tears, and a lump forms in her throat. She brings the small razor to her stomach, and draws out her first word. She doesn't hiss, nor does she flinch. She doesn't stop either. She moves on to the second word, and the third, with little regard to wiping the blood off her skin. The blood seeps through her black jeans, yet it won't really be seen. With a couple of silent sobs, she dabs the blood off her skin.

The word is 'fat'.

/

"Kim, are you okay? You've lost a lot of weight."

_Don't tempt me._

/

Kim stares at her full plate, with very little interest to eat. She doesn't want to eat, because she hates vomiting. She hates the burning effect after gagging the fattening burger and fries. She hates the regurgitated disgusting aftertaste of the gumbo her friend Jerry made. She hates the smell of cotton candy and popcorn from her recent failed date with some guy from the football team. She hates it all.

She's by herself in the full cafeteria, while everyone else eats and talks. Everyone's happy. Everyone's enjoying their lives. Everyone's fit and pretty. Kim is not any of these things.

She sees her worst enemy Lindsay walk past her table, with her friend Katie by her side. They don't notice her, but when they do, Lindsey's the first to laugh. The laugh is evil, and cold hearted. It's less meaningful than it should be. Kim only stares at the girls, who point and laugh at her. "What are you looking at?" Kim asks weakly.

"Nothing much, ugly," Lindsey retorts back, and pushes Kim's tray so hard that the tray hits her abdomen. The cooling food stains her white sweatshirt with whatever concoction, made by the cafeteria women. Kim gets up and runs out of the cafeteria, only hearing twin giggles fading as she runs away. She runs faster when she hears familial voices chasing her down. Knowing who they are, she runs inside the same girls' bathroom she was in before. She sobs as she grips the dirty sink, her tears falling on the sink. Her eyes are closed, and she's trying to block out the protests from her friends. They can't come in here because they're boys. She wouldn't want them to anyway.

She reaches in her pocket, and runs over to one of the stalls. She unbuckles her belt, and lets her jeans pool to her ankles. With a stifling sob, she draws a bunch of jagged letters on her right thigh, and hopes that it's enough to read in the reflection. She flinches a little when she draws the first letter, but every other letter is fine. She drops the razor on the floor, and sobs again, louder than the first.

The word reads, unpretty.

/

"Kim? There's a tinge of blood on your shirt."

_Fuck._

/

"You stupid bitch!" the popular girl Lorie yells, after Kim accidentally bumps into her during her makeup sessions. Lipstick covers Lorie's new white off-the-shoulder sweater, and Kim stares at her in horror. No one really ever calls her a bitch, and the old Kim would already slap the shit out of her, but she is barely the same person. Everyone's noticing her reckless moves to cover her bloody clothing, like she wants everyone to know about her cutting.

"Oops," Kim mutters, and backs away from Lorie and her friends, who glare at the blond harshly. "Looks like my contacts aren't working anymore for me -" she knows she's lying, but she doesn't want Lorie to attack her too much. "I'm just gonna go now…" Kim runs away, far away from the intimidating girls. She's very sure of where she's going; she just hopes no one is watching her.

She's staring at that mirror again. Her right arm is exposed, revealing the fresh word 'bitch'. The blood from the cut drops to the floor, but she doesn't care. She doesn't shed a tear, and she doesn't make any sudden sounds. She stands there, with her arm bleeding. She's looking more tired. Her face doesn't look the same. Her hair is falling out. She can see her rib cage. There's a lot going on, yet no one can see the difference.

No one cares, really.

Her panic sets in when she hears the door open. She snaps her head over to the door, and sprints over to an open stall. She jumps on the toilet, hoping that the next girl inside won't notice another person in here. She wipes up the blood with one of the tissues, and waits until she feels like whoever's in here has left.

"I told you, I saw her walk in here!"

This is a recognizable voice, but she hasn't heard that voice in months. She thought the girl hated her guts when they had a fallout a few months back. She never thought she would hear her voice again. It's been a while indeed.

"Fine, I'll go inside. Fucking wuss."

She's a persistent one. Kim doesn't try to make another sound, and she hopes whoever will enter the bathroom will not find her. She's still bleeding, and the blood tracks are all over the floor. She hears a gasp, and she sees a pair of shoes standing in front of the stall door.

"Kim, it's Grace. I know you're in there," she hears that feminine voice, and she stops breathing through her mouth. She tries not to make a sudden move, in fear that she might try to crawl through the space between the floor and the door (no matter how dirty it is). Maybe she might jump over the wall with a little help from the toilet (because she's that flexible). "Alright...I know you're scared, but don't think for a second that I don't know what you've done these past couple of days."

Grace takes a pregnant pause, and a deep, shaky sigh. "I'm here to help you...partially because your 'never say die' friends are too much of a wuss to enter a girls' bathroom, but also because I care about you. I haven't seen you for a while, yes, but recently things have changed. We may not be close anymore, but you were my only friend on the first day of school. I don't want to see you destroying yourself.

"I see you wearing more long sleeves...and that's the biggest indication I need. It's too fucking hot for long sleeves, Kim. You know that. Jerry told me about the blood on your shirt yesterday. Jack told me you lost weight. I don't see you around anymore, and I kind of miss you. I don't know what's making you do this, but you know I'll be there for you when you tell me why."

With that, Kim hears the door rattle a little before it opens softly. "Yeah, these doors are defective," Grace smirks, but it falters when she sees the morbid decoration on her friend's right arm. "Kim…"

"No," she shakes her head, but the brunette doesn't hear any of it. Grace traces her finger on the fresh-cut that's still bleeding, and her eyes shine with new tears. "Please…"

"You're not a bitch, Kim," Grace rasps, her eyes watering over the fresh-cut that says a word. She has a feeling there are more than just this one word on her arm, but she isn't willing to ask a fragile soul about her cuts. Instead, she reaches for Kim's hand, and helps her down from the toilet. She uses her other free hand to cup Kim's wet face, wiping her face from the shedded tears. "You're a beautiful person, inside and out."

Kim breaks down in front of her once-best-friend, and hugs her closely. It's the first time someone has ever called her something other than the words written on her skin in a while. She hasn't hung out with a lot of people in fear of her...issues. She doesn't want to open up just yet, either. Grace hugs her back, and cries softly with her.

The bathroom probably has a new purpose: consoling a friend in need.

"You need to stop," Grace says to Kim, who nods against her wet chest. She ignores her wet shirt, and caresses the broken girl's figure. "It's a little harsh, but I never want to see you destroying yourself anymore. No more cutting, no more starving, no more of that self-loathing. It may take a while, but don't you think I'm not gonna be here for the rollercoaster ride. You know I love roller coasters."

Kim doesn't utter a word. She grins, and silently agrees to her friend's requests (or demands) to stop her self-harming. She understands what it's doing to the closest girl friend she's ever had. She can't destroy a friendship that she cherishes any longer.

"Alright, let's get out of here," Grace says, with a loud sniffle. Grace grabs the blond's hand, and holds on for support as they leave the bathroom. Not once did they realize that the destructive object that Kim uses to cut herself is still on the floor, yet it doesn't matter anymore.


End file.
